


Catch All of Small Fics

by Merinia



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dain being shipper trash, Gandalf Is So Done, M/M, modern!au: Thranduil really wants to marry Bard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merinia/pseuds/Merinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't see any point in doing a bunch of little fics on their own, so I'll just lump them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elf Eyes Blind to What the Dwarf Sees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: http://bittersuites.tumblr.com/post/107609313480/dain-ironfoot-is-the-biggest-barduil-shipper-in
> 
> "Dain Ironfoot is the biggest Barduil shipper in Middle Earth. Any time there’s a meeting between the three races, Dain is always trolling, especially if Bard and Thranduil arrive together.
> 
> "Ahh look! It’s the Queen and his consort!"
> 
> Thranduil thinks Dain is despicable. Bard doesn’t know where to look."

Negotiating with his neighbors now that the dust has settled was certainly no joy to the Elvenking. The Dwarves were crass at the best of times, and at these meetings they were far from their best despite the Hobbit’s attempts at calming them. It did not help matters that Mithrandir refused to leave. The only creature Thranduil could even remotely tolerate was Dale’s representative, whom he was sure would be crowned their king. The Man had at least some modicum of wisdom.

Thranduil swept into the meeting tent elegantly, if slightly late. The head Dwarf, Dain the Deranged, seemed a bit too smug for his liking. What was that blasted Dwarf up to now?

“A bit tired today?”

Ignoring the jibe and taking a seat next to the Dragonslayer, the Elvenking poured a goblet of wine for the Man before pouring himself one. If he was going to have to sit through a meeting with peoples he could hardly stand, he was doing it with wine in his goblet.

Glancing across the table as he sipped the fine drink, he saw that tusk-faced beast grin. “And here I was thinking you of heartlessness, but you share your precious wine with Bard and serve him.” He snorted. “Wonders never cease.” He then started discussing with Bard the ground work for future trade.

Clearly mad, Thranduil thought, refusing to so much as blink in response. The Dwarf made no sense. He turned his attention instead to Bard, watching him discreetly out of the corner of his eye. The Man had decided to ignore the boar’s joke from the looks of it. Thranduil did notice the Man had dark circles under his eyes and his face seemed to be slightly sallow. Winter was upon them and knowing his generosity, Bard had probably been without adequate bedding and food for while in favor of giving to others. Thranduil would make sure to send a cart of food and blankets to that drafty box he and his children currently resided in.

Mind made, he turned his attention back to the others, catching the tail end of a disagreement between the Hobbit and Mithrandir.

—-

Bard was lingering a moment outside, having started shivering the moment he stepped out of the warm tent. Thranduil silently came up behind him.

“Is something the matter, Dragonslayer?” He was pleased at the nearly inaudible gasp of surprise and startled look thrown his way.

“Ah, no. No. Nothing’s wrong,” Bard insisted, but he did not stop shivering. He almost literally jumped when the Elvenking wrapped his mantle draped arm about him. “What-“

“Come,” Thranduil interrupted. “The hour is late and I doubt you have had a bite to eat all day.” He made sure the Man was firmly at his side and wrapped up warm, and was about to lead him to his lavish tent when the heavy tromp of boots stopped him.

“Got this pretty thing trained have you, Dragonslayer?” Thranduil turned his head just enough to glare at Dain. “First he serves you wine, now dinner. I wish my wife was so willing.”

No, you’re wife probably beats you in the head with her frying pan, the Elf thought angrily. Thranduil had no idea what the bastard was going on about. He dragged the poor tired, now confused, Man with him and away from the cackling Dwarf.

—-

Another conference was held just a week later. Thranduil really didn’t need to be at them, he was sure. But he came anyway. He didn’t like the Dwarves being left alone with the Dragonslayer. They seemed to get along well enough, but he didn’t trust those gold hungry monsters in the slightest.

The Elvenking did make an effort to grace everyone with his presence on time. When everyone was called to attention, he was surprised to find the Hobbit gone. He caught Bard’s eye and sent him a questioning look, subtly motioning toward the Halfling’s seat. The Man only shrugged slightly. He looked even worse that last week. His eyes were glassy, his skin looked as if was tinged a faint green and flushed.

Thranduil decided to keep quiet as Bard seemed stable. At least until dismissal. He did not let the Man leave his sight for a moment.

The Dwarves did not seem interested in staying long, thankfully. Something about “not wanting to keep you two held up.” Thranduil quickly dismissed the statement as nonsense and turned his attention back to Bard, who only seemed worse.

“What ails you, Dragonslayer?”

The Man looked up at him wearily. “A cold, my lord. Nothing to worry about.” His voice was hoarse, the sentence punctuated with a cough.

“Cold?” Thranduil raised a brow and looked his companion over with a critical eye. “You do not appear to be cold. In fact, you seem flushed.”

“No,” Bard started, but was cut off with another cough. “It’s the name of an illness. It is minor. I will be fine in a week.” He tried to rise from his chair, but had to grab the table for support.

This alarmed the Elvenking. “You are clearly unfit to travel alone.” He stood and grabbed Bard’s elbow to lend support. “I will escort you.” He pointedly ignored the straggling Dain and his snickering, opting to remove his outer robe and wrap it around Bard before guiding him out with a hand to his back.

“It’s fine,” Bard protested weakly. “I can-” Thranduil cut him off.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Just like not eating properly or getting enough sleep,” he scolded. Gently, he placed a delicate hand on the Dragonslayer’s forehead. “It feels like you have a fever.” He glared back at Dain, who had been not so secretly following them. Thranduil wrapped his arm around Bard’s waist protectively, who coughed in surprised. “I’ll personally see to your well being.”

After loosing the stupid Dwarf outside Dale, Thranduil helped Bard back to his makeshift home. The children were surprised to see the Elvenking cross their threshold, but were soon more concerned over their sick father.

Sigrid put a beat up old kettle over the tiny fire to make some tea as Bain and Tilda helped the Elf lead their father to a curtained off corner where a few ratty blankets lay.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he gently lowered Bard to the ground and wrapped him up tighter in the robe and blankets. “I thought I had sent blankets not a week ago.”

“Yeah, but Da would never keep something someone else needed more than him,” Bain grimaced.

“Will Da be okay?” Tilda clutched at Thranduil’s sleeve, looking up at him hopefully.

He patted her head and sat on the floor next to the bundle of fabric that was Bard. “Of course. I will not leave until he has recovered in full.” This seemed to please the children greatly for some reason. The sick Man himself huffed and grumbled. Thranduil flicked his nose in response.

—-

Dain called another meeting nearly five weeks later, though Thranduil could not imagine why. With the Wizard and Hobbit both gone and the negotiations between the Lonely Mountain and Dale stable at the moment, there really was no need. At least a conference chamber was now available in Dale, if in need of some finishing.

Thranduil left his realm slightly early to visit in Dale before having to face the Dwarves. The Men there acted strange, especially when he had shadowed the Dragonslayer. The women seemed to always be laughing or blushing, and the Men looking away or flushed as well. He ignored them and they made way for him out of respect as he marched down the streets that had been cleared.

He gently knocked on the small door of the tiny home. Though he had insisted on the dwelling’s improvement, even providing materials and paying for labor to strengthen its structure, he was still cautious. Sigrid opened the door and welcomed him in with a bright smile. The Elvenking smiled slightly in return and ducked into the building.

“Would you like some tea?” Thranduil shook his head slightly to the eldest child in polite refusal before spotting Bard helping his son with a small bow.

“You look well,” he said sincerely. The Man’s neck flushed and he was clearly making an effort not to let it creep onto his face. The Elf’s eyes lazily trailed down the reddened flesh only to meet with the collar of Bard’s tunic, much to his disgruntlement.

“Well, I had some nosy Elf who allied with my children into bullying me around.” He glared half heartedly at Bain’s snort.

“Someone’s got to take care of you, Da,” Tilda giggled from her corner of the room where she peeled potatoes.

“We better leave,” Bard sighed as he stood up and stretched. “It’s not like you can turn my children against me anymore than you already have.”

It took Thranduil a moment to register his words, though he had looked at him the whole time. “Oh? Yes, I suppose,” he muttered distractedly. The children bade them farewell as he followed their father outside.

The walk through Dale was fairly uneventful. Only the Men of Dale and their strange ways. Thranduil didn’t know what to think of them and chose to stay close to Bard.

They had entered the chamber together. It should not have been shocking or strange. The Man and Elf were friends and the Dwarves should have found it normal to see them spending time with one another. But the boar could not keep his mouth shut.

“The fairy queen and his consort have arrived!” He jeered. “I’m surprised you two’d leave your bed to get here on time today. Let’s get this meeting underway.” His advisers crowed as Thranduil felt his ears get hot and sense Bard’s embarrassment beside him.

The Elvenking could not recall a thing that happened after. He was too busy glaring at the Dwarf at the other end of the table. How dare he insinuate such a thing! Thranduil had no desire to be pinned to his bed by the Dragonslayer. He did not want his hot mouth on his sensitive ears and neck. It had never crossed his mind to wonder how the hair on Man’s face would feel on his smooth skin.

“My lord?”

He never thought on what rough cloth hid. The hard, trained body that probably harbored scars. Never thought how wonderful it would be to wake beside Bard in the morning…

“Thranduil!”

Said Elf was started from his reverie. Everyone was staring at him. He raised a brow at his companion in question.

“Uh, you were staring off in the distance.”

Thranduil waved him off impatiently, trying to hide the embarrassment of his recent thought process. Dain wasn’t so forgiving, however.

“I know you want to be left alone with your lover, you insatiable nymph, but we do have business to attend to.” The Dwarf propped his feet up on the table disrespectfully. “Being short on time is no excuse.” The Elf could feel something shatter in his mind.

The sudden clatter of Thranduil’s chair hitting the hard floor startled everyone, almost sending Dain flailing backward. His face was not red in rage, but deathly pale with eyes icy cold.

“These meetings are entirely pointless,” the Elvenking said in so cold a tone as to almost be felt. “You have not said anything here that has not already been discussed by all parties involved. I suggest you return to your mountain until the spring when there is true business to be attended.” He spun on his heel and left in a swirl of hair and fabric.

The Elf did not slow down even as he heard Bard calling after him. He gathered his Elves and returned to his woods.

Thranduil hated that Dwarf. He hated him for his casual assumption of his and Bard’s relationship. He hated how vulgar the Dwarf could be in those assumptions. But what he hated most of all was that he was right!

—-

As much as he hated the pointlessness of those winter gatherings, Thranduil suddenly found himself missing them. To be more accurate, he missed Bard. There was nothing but time on his hands to think about what he wanted to say to the Man when next they met.

When the Elvenking found himself in that, thankfully now finished, chamber alone with Dain without his entourage. He was understandably irritated.

“Where’s Bard?” Thranduil demanded.

“You two still having that lover’s quarrel, eh?” The boar leaned forward and grinned. “I hope for your sake he hadn’t found himself a lass while you were gone.”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed as a strong wave of jealousy flowed through him. But the Elf took hold of himself, remembering that this Dwarf was hardly a reliable source for such information and was only trying to get a reaction. It was then that Bard finally appeared.

“Sorry,” he apologized, wiping his dirty hands uselessly on equally dirty trousers. “I was helping clear land for farming. Did I miss anything?”

“We cannot start without you,” Thranduil replied lightly before gesturing to the seat next to him. If he leaned a little too closely after Bard had taken his place there was no more response than a slight flush.

“Keep your hands to yourself with company if you don’t mind,” the Dwarf groused, though he had a gleam in his eye.

Thranduil took that as a challenge and place his hand on Bard’s arm. “Once we have rid ourselves of the swine, I’ll have a hot bath drawn for you,” he whispered in the Dragonslayer’s ear. Bard’s face burned red and he couldn’t look at anything at all.

“Don’t do anything inappropriate now, sprite!”

Honestly, Thranduil thought, Dain should go burn in an inferno.


	2. Class Shouldn't Start Until After Noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt:  
> http://merinia.tumblr.com/post/111801664415/can-you-imagine-them-being-in-the-same-9-a-m  
> and this conversation:  
> http://merinia.tumblr.com/post/111806737470/thran-totally-falls-asleep-on-bard-and-then-has-to

Bard always woke up at 7:30 am, right on the dot. He never needed an alarm clock to do this, much to his roommates’ relief. Though as far as Bard was concerned, he was getting up at a decent time.

His morning routine always started by throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old, faded t-shirt before taking a run about the campus. He’d then return to the dorm to take a quick shower before heading to his first class.

Today, Bard was running late.

During his run, another student had tripped over her boyfriend’s skateboard, which should not have been on campus anyway, and was having trouble putting her weight on her left foot. The boyfriend only laughed. Bard, being the kind of man he was, escorted her to the clinic himself, not caring if the other man called him out for it. Bard had no time for such people, and from the looks of the girl was done with him too.

Because of the interruption to Bard’s usual schedule, he didn’t have more than five minutes to grab a piece of fruit and his books before heading to class.

Thranduil was not an early riser. His alarm was set for eight and the snooze button was starting to wear out. Luckily, he had no roommates to aggravate with the constant buzzing.

Once he had finally dragged himself out of bed, Thranduil didn’t even bother walking over to his closet. He stepped into some crocs and grabbed his books before heading out in his pajamas. Thranduil would come back after class and dress properly when he was awake.

The next stop was to grab a coffee from the Starbucks on campus and a can of Red Bull before heading to class. On the way, the two would be mixed into a concoction that should probably make Thranduil’s heart explode from all the caffeine. Miraculously, Thranduil would arrive to class on time and awake.

Today, Thranduil was running late.

Being more a night owl, Thranduil was naturally more inclined to stay up late into the night. The usual reason was partying, but this instance he pulled an all-nighter writing his paper that was due later that day and slept through the alarm the next morning.

When Thranduil finally started to wake, it was already five after nine. He bolted from bed, grabbed his crocs and books, and raced to the classroom. After vaulting over a few students, he made to class in about five minutes.

Bard had sat himself in the back, not wanting to bother anyone with his body odor. He was the only one at the back table, all the other seats in front being taken by his classmates. They apparently had the same idea.

He looked up briefly from his notes when the door quietly creaked open. Bard looked back to his notes, not really caring if one of his classmates was late. That is, until said classmate took the only seat available, right next to Bard.

"If you’re going to sweat, couldn’t you have at least showered before coming to class?"

Bard tried to contain his wince. It was that kid who always showed up in his pajamas. Thranduil, wasn’t it? That was the name that written on his ever present Starbucks coffee.

"Says the guy who can’t be bothered to get dressed in the morning."

Thranduil wrinkled his nose in what he believed to be a delicate manner in offense. He pulled out his notebook and his favorite pencil, the one with covered with soft fuzz, and tried to catch up. Now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, and with no caffeine in his system, the blonde was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to the professor.

Bard had never gotten more than a passing glance from across the room of Thranduil before now. He had always found the blonde’s appearance odd, thinking he must had worn make up despite showing up to class in sleep wear and dyes his hair an unnatural color. Not to mention the sheer height of the guy. Up close it was clear that neither assumption was true. Thranduil’s skin was naturally like that and there were no dark roots, despite the fact that his eyebrows didn’t match his long hair at all.

Bard was sure that showing up in a supposedly disheveled state was a ruse. Seriously, who shows up with their hair barely done up in a bun and crocs and doesn’t look like a hot mess? Well, okay, Thranduil did kinda look that way, but it should have been far less appealing.

There had been a joke between Bard and one of his roomates who had another class with the blonde. The other student thought him an alien. Now, Bard wasn’t so sure he was making it up. He was not really into conspiracies, but Thranduil was not human he was sure.

Bard stiffened when he felt something warm and heavy land on his shoulder. He didn’t even have to look to figure out the blonde had fallen asleep and was using him as a pillow. This was even more distracting. Bard could feel Thranduil’s hair against his neck. Heck, he could smell him! And the scent was far from unpleasant.

If he had not been questioning Thranduil’s humanity before, Bard certainly was now. He smelled woodsy, which could have been explained by scented shampoo, but Bard couldn’t get himself to accept that. Thranduil’s hair couldn’t have been human hair. Bard had had a few girlfriends, and even those who were the most fanatical with their hair care didn’t have hair anything like his. It felt like it was spun out of silk.

Bard came to the conclusion that Thranduil was some sort of unicorn. In human form. He’s pretty sure his little sister made him watch a movie like that. Seriously, there was no way any human being could manage to look like where made of pale gold silk and stardust and iced eyes.

There was the sound of a great number of chairs scrapping across the floor as the class was dismissed for the day. Bard blinked as he returned to reality. He usually daydreamed when in class, so this was nothing new to him. Luckily, he was pretty good at copying down notes from what was on the board without noticing. He’d probably never pass if he didn’t.

The commotion of the class leaving woke Thranduil. He removed his head from where it rested on Bard’s shoulder and tried to message the crick from his neck.

"Is your body furnace or something?"

Bard glared at him. “Usually people apologize for using their classmates as pillows against their will.”

Thranduil waved off the retort. “If you were that bothered, you would have pushed me off before now.” He looked back down at his blank note page. “I slept through the whole session. Can I borrow your notes?”

Bard tossed his notebook at the blonde’s face, a bit put out when he deftly caught it and raised an bemused brow. He concentrated on packing his things.

"Tsk tsk. Someone has a temper," Thranduil taunted.

"Oh, I’m sorry," Bard seethed. "I’m only human! Not some ethereal unicorn!"

Thranduil was completely baffled by the retort. Was it supposed to be some sort of insult to be referred to as a unicorn? It seemed like something that should be a complement. He wasn’t going to let Bard get the best of him, though.

"Human? Hardly," Thranduil drawled. "More like a dragon. Who has a tummy ache."

Bard’s eye’s flashed. He jerked his bag over his shoulder and stomped out of the room. He didn’t even care about his notes, or the mocking laughter that filled the room in his absence.

It became the norm for Bard and Thranduil to clash anytime they came anywhere near each other. The taunts of “unicorn” and “dragon” were bizarre, but no one gave it too much attention. The feud only ended when the college’s grey bearded dean finally got fed up with their nonsense and ceremoniously tossed them in the fountain on top of each other “by accident”. No one was surprised to see them dating after that.


	3. Pulling Pigtails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Class Shouldn't Start Until After Noon.  
> In which Gandalf is recruited to get to the bottom of whatever is going on with Thranduil and Bard. He isn’t going to put up with their nonsense.

Gandalf Mithrandir took his responsibilities as the dean of students very seriously. He got involved in the lives of the students in his university and learned the names of everyone he met.

Almost no one called him “Mr. Mithrandir”, much to Gandalf’s pleasure. He wasn’t referred to by his first name all the time either, but that’s because the college kids, and even some of the staff and faculty, liked to jokingly call him Dumbledore. Considering he had shown up on campus dressed in a Dumbledore costume last Halloween, it was safe to assume he didn’t mind the nickname.

If there was one student he was not happy to see, it was Thranduil Greenwood. The dean didn’t hate anyone he’d met yet, Thranduil included, but the young man could be trying. Unfortunately for Gandalf, his father was one of the college’s most generous financial supporters and had been a student at the university himself back when the dean had been a professor. He had asked Gandalf himself to watch over his son.

It wasn’t too difficult. Thranduil drank like a fish and liked to party, but he held his alcohol well and rarely got all that drunk and made good grades. He could be scathing to his peers, but he never got physical and no one wanted his head or anything. Well, except maybe Thorin Oakenshield, but even as bullheaded as the other student was even he wouldn’t take on someone well over a foot taller than him.

At least it wasn’t difficult until Bard Lakeman came into the picture.

From what the dean knew of him, Bard was on the track team and was trying to found an archery club. His classmates had nothing but nice things to say about him, with the exception of maybe one or two. Though Gandalf suspected they were only against the young man for unkind reasons.

He wasn’t completely sure what had occurred between Bard and Thranduil, but whatever it was had led to quite the feud. Most of the other students didn’t seem to care much, but he had gotten complaints from their professor from the last semester. He needed to find out what the problem was before it got worse and they ruined the new term. They would be sharing three classes when they start again.

Gandalf decided he needed to speak to Bard on the matter. He was sure the young man would be honest with him. Not that Thranduil would lie, but he was not very forthcoming with the dean. The last time Gandalf had tried to touch base with him, the blonde rolled his eyes and played on his smart phone.

He found the young man in his dorm unpacking his things. His roommate, a sweet freshman by the name of Bilbo Baggins whom Gandalf had met before, let him in befor leaving.

"Are you Bard Lakeman?"

Bard set stopped digging through a ratty looking moving box full of clothes and looked up. Recognition lit his eyes and he stood up.

"Yes. Though I can’t imagine why you would be looking for me, Mr. Mithrandir. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," Gandalf laughed, making the student’s shoulders relax. "At least I hope not. I came to ask you about Thranduil Greenwood."

Bard rolled his eyes. “Did his royal majesty go tattling? Look, I didn’t do anything to the drama queen.”

"I didn’t say you did! From what I’ve heard, you two have been having a disagreement since last semester and I want to get to the bottom of the issue." Gandalf sighed. "I fear it will only escalate otherwise."

"If King Fairy Dust would stop treating me like the gum on the bottom his shoe, there wouldn’t be a problem."

Gandalf took a seat in an old chair in the corner. This might take a while.

"I’ve known Thranduil since he was a boy and I’ve rarely known him to act in such a way. He can be rather cold, but he usually will just ignore people he dislikes unless they have done something to get his attention."

"I didn’t even talk to him until the day he showed up to class late. Even then we didn’t exactly have a long conversation." Bard collapsed onto his bed.

"Well, what about the last indecent you two had before break?"

_Bard was glad to be free from final exams. Written tests made him a bit anxious and he just wanted to get home for the holidays to spend time with his family._

_That’s when Thranduil ran into him. Literally._

_The blonde had not been paying attention to where he was going, too busy texting some air head friend of his. He slammed right into Bard while rounding a corner, sending them both sprawling to the ground._

_"You would think an archer would be able to see when someone is coming," Thranduil griped as he struggled to untangle himself from his classmate. He just couldn’t seem to get his leg to take his weight._

_"I can’t see through solid buildings!" Bard did wonder how the blonde knew of his hobby since he certainly never mentioned it to him. "Besides, I thought unicorns were supposed to be graceful or something."_

_"Well sorry for loosing my balance when getting hit by a freight train!"_

_Bard finally managed to push himself off the ground, and pulled Thranduil up with him. The taller man leaned against him, having trouble standing on his own._

_"C’mon." Bard slung Thranduil’s arm round his neck and supported him with an arm around his waist._

_"What do you think you’re doing?"_

_Bard rolled his eyes. “Helping you get to the clinic. What do you think I was doing?”_

_"How do I know you aren’t trying to take advantage of my injury?"_

_For the love of- “Don’t flatter yourself, pixie. I have a strict no mystical creatures code.”_

_The blonde flushed angrily, but didn’t reply. He was silent the rest of the awkward trip, though Bard would have rather had him whining._

Gandalf sat quietly for a moment as he thought about what Bard had told him. He was sure the young man told him what he experienced, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

"Tell me Bard, do you hate Thranduil?"

Bard seemed taken aback by the question. “What? Well, not really.”

"That’s surprising. From what I’ve heard, you can get quite verbal with Thranduil."

"He’s verbal back," Bard snorted. "I don’t exactly meet many people who can take it and dish it out, y’know?"

Gandalf remembered when he was looking into Bard’s reputation. There was one student, Alfrid, who had a lot to say about Bard’s attitude. Other students had commented it as well, but it was clear the young man did put in the effort into keeping it in check. Clearly Bard thought Thranduil could handle his snide comments.

The dean thought about the conversation on his way back to his office in the student affairs building. Bard had admitted he didn’t hate Thranduil, and Gandalf was sure whatever emotion was there was mutual.

There was also the incident that happened before the holidays. If Thranduil had been hurt, he would have heard about it. His father had mentioned he had seemed down when he had returned home, but nothing about any injuries.

It was information, yes, but he couldn’t make heads or tales of what it meant.

Gandalf set out to observe the two himself a couple of days later. It was not spying. There was a campus-wide event to welcome the students, new and old, to the university. Given how these two seemed to gravitate to each other, he had no doubt it was a great opportunity.

The dean trailed Bard for a good hour, thinking himself stealthy hiding behind whatever stood still long enough. Luckily the young man didn’t notice as he seemed to be avoiding someone else. From an earlier conversation Gandalf just happened to have overheard, he had made Alfrid look like a fool that morning.

Bard had moved on to the center of the campus courtyard, next to the fountain. That’s when Thranduil finally appeared.

"It’s a little cold to be taking a bath in the fountain," Thranduil laughed.

Gandalf tried to think on when the last time he had heard the blonde laugh honestly.

"How would you know?" Bard raised an eyebrow. "Did you jump in earlier? Is that how you keep your skin that icy smooth?"

Thranduil quickly made his way to where Bard stood and used his height to loom over him. “Maybe you should try it.”

"Sorry, I don’t think I could pull of the pretty ice sculpture look as well as you can."

Bard was supposedly being insulting, but was using complementary language?

The blonde flipped his hair back from his shoulder. “The water would probably evaporate anyway.”

The only time Gandalf could remember Thranduil moving his hair like that was-

He slapped his paml against his forehead before he could stop himself.

They were flirting.

That was it. Gandalf stormed over to the two students, ignoring their startled reactions to his angry presence.

"You two are unbelievable!" He brushed past them, knocking the two into the fountain.

The dean ignored the splashing and shouts of surprise behind him. He didn’t care if they clung together to stay warm while the nurse looked them over. And he really didn’t care if he saw them holding hands and kissing around campus the next day.

Gandalf needed a bottle of fine, strong red wine.


	4. Thranduil Really Wants Bard to Marry Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based of this au prompt from Tumblr:  
> Will you marry me? Also, surprise, I’m actually foreign royalty

Working at a fast food joint was far from a dream job, but Bard couldn't afford college and he had to pay the bills somehow. Even if he could have managed a scholarship and scraped his way through a degree, he would have had to abandon his mother who was undergoing expensive cancer treatment at the time. Even now the medical bills just about drowned his poor father. Bard couldn't just leave him to shoulder that burden alone.

It would have been nice if it had been a burger joint, though. The Esgaroth served the greasiest fish ever and Bard always came home reeking of the stuff. Then there was the owner...

"Bard!" A fat man in a poorly fitted business suit, who insisted on being called "The Masteer" so who knew what his actual name was, squeezed through the door of the tiny kitchen. "I want you on register. Old Percy called in sick. Leave the cooking to Alfrid."

Bard grimaced as Alfrid grinned from the other side of the room. The last time the other man was left to fry the fish there were complaints of stomach pain from a couple of their regulars. Bard was pretty sure it was intentional, but he had no proof. Even if he did, Alfrid was The Master's favorite. Bard needed the job too badly to go against them, despite all the things he would love to say.

Bard sighed as he followed The Master back out into the dining area. There were only a couple of small, grease stained plastic tables, but no one ate in anyway. He took up the register and started taking the order of the older couple that was waiting.

As Bard handed them their order, the bell over the door rang. He had never seen the newcomer before he knew because there was no forgetting someone like that. It was a young man of about the same age, taller than even Bard who wasn't short by any means, with long hair that was so pale as to be unreal and thick eyebrows that shouldn't have matched. He looked to be made of marble, with perfect facial features twisted into a look of disgust. Given how expensive his designer clothes were, there was no question as to why.

Just as he turned to leave, he made eye contact with Bard and stopped. He strode over to the counter what could only have been a few steps and looked down his nose at the cashier.

Too bad he's clearly a stuck up prick, Bard thought to himself. He's damn pretty.

"Can I take your order, sir?"

The blonde man flicked his eyes up at the menu for only a second. "I'd like a grouper sandwich and fried pickles," he replied smoothly, his voice deep with a hint of an accent.

Bard stuttered through payment, trying to remind himself how much of a jerk the guy was. He was relieved when the costumer left, even if the man took another long look at him as he went out the door.

I'm glad I don't have to see him again.

But oh how wrong Bard was. Not only did he return again the next day, but everyday for a week. He showed up at different times in the day and always ordered the same thing. When Bard returned back to work Thursday after being off, Percy told him that the new customer had asked about him before leaving without ordering anything. He came back again that day and ordered his usual, but only after demanding that Bard handle the transaction.

After that, the customer would return only when Bard was on shift and only let him take his order. What some foreign trust fund baby wanted with him, Bard had no idea. He wasn't being harassed or insulted, the guy didn't speak more than was necessary, and not because he was bad with the language because he spoke better than most people Bard knew.

"Maybe he's out to kill you," Alfrid sneered.

"Why would he do that?" Bard asked. "I'm a nobody who works at a fast food joint." He turned to his coworker and added, "And not everyone gets the attention you do."

About a month later while emptying out the garbage can in front of the building, Bard found an uneaten order at the top of the pile. He would have lamented at the waste of food, but it was hardly edible anyway. Opening the bag revealed it to be a grouper sandwich and pickle fries.

When the man came in next, the Esgaroth was as empty as it usually was. Bard was convinced it only stays open because it was a laundering front. It did give him the opportunity for a confrontation.

"Come to spend more money on something you won't eat?"

The customer's eyes widened marginally in surprise, with one thick eyebrow raised. A smirk slowly made its way on his face as he leaned over the counter.

"You've caught me," he sighed. "I don't come for the food. There's this man who works here that I find absolutely captivating." Mischief glinted in his eyes. "You couldn't get me his name and number, could you?"

Bard could hear Alfrid coughing loudly and Percy guffawing in the back.

"Let me get this straight," Bard growled. "You came in hear, bossed my coworkers around, and bought food you didn't even eat just to see me?"

Instead of being offended or even taken aback, the man leaned into Bard's space and answered quietly, "Yes, and it appears I've made an impression."

Bard scowled. "Sorry, I'm not interested in entitled brats."

"You don't even know my name, much less my personality." The blonde man straightened up and tilted his head, still smirking. "All I ask for is a chance."

"You don't know me either. Why would you ask me out?"

"Oh, I've learned enough about you in the last couple of minutes of talking to you to make me think it a good idea."

Maybe he should just go on one date with the guy just to get rid of him. Grumbling under his breath, Bard tore off a piece of the receipt roll and scribbled his name and number on it before practically throwing it at that smug face.

"One date and I don't see your pale behind anymore."

"My name is Thranduil." Thranduil carefully folded the crumpled paper and tucked it away in his pocket. He paused on his way out the door. "I don't think you'd mind seeing my rear." He left Bard flushing angrily and gaping.

One point Thranduil.

Later that evening Bard received a text that read: "Meet me at the park's entrance at six. Wear something nice."

This was already turning out to be a bad idea. Bard had to borrow his father's old suit because there was no doubt Thranduil would insist on taking him to some fancy place. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb and humiliate himself.

The park in question wasn't a long walk from his apartment. It was clear he wouldn't have to walk to the restaurant, though. Thranduil was already waiting for him at the entry, leaning against the hood of a silver sports car that probably cost more money than Bard had ever seen in his life. To top it off, he was wearing an expensive suit with his hair intricately braided to one side.

"You call me 'my lady' and open the door for me, I'm ditching you so fast your head will spin."

Thranduil's only response was to let out a throaty laugh. Bard really liked the sound of it.

As predicted, Thranduil brought him to the ritziest place in town. The hostess looked over at Bard, with his ill fitting suit and messily tied back hair, with a barely concealed expression of distaste.

"Reservations?"

"Yes," Thranduil directed her attention to himself.

He didn't have to say another word as her eyes widened in recognition. "Of course! Right this way sir." She lead the two men to a semi-private niche. "We are so pleased to have you dining with us tonight." Her voice was honey sweet as she talked and she tried to run a hand down Thranduil's arm that he coldly brushed off. Dejected, she returned to the front.

Bard looked around at the decor. It looked like some sort of fairy palace with murals of forests and gold leafing everywhere. A waiter came by and handed them each a menu and asked what they wanted to drink.

"We'll have a bottle of your finest," Thranduil answered before Bard had the chance. The waiter left without so much as acknowledging the implications of what was just said.

"A whole bottle?" Bard asked rhetorically. "If you think getting me drunk is a good idea, I'm going to tell you right now that you're wrong."

Thranduil laughed in that way that Bard liked again. "I'm sure you'll only drink moderately. It will be me who will be drinking the majority of the wine, be assured."

"Oh, so you're planning on driving drunk?" He chuckled at his date's offended expression.

"I am quite capable of holding my drink, Bard."

Bard suppressed a shiver at the way Thranduil said his name and picked up his menu to avoid eye contact. He quickly figured out making a choice wasn't going to be easy. He couldn't understand half the words used to describe the food, or even tell if they were even in a different language. He was pretty sure none of it had any meat, though.

The waiter returned with the wine sitting in a silver engraved bucket of ice and etched wine glasses so thin Bard was sure he'd break his. He ordered something completely random, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. The corner of Thranduil's lips quirked up in a amusement, but otherwise he didn't comment and ordered his own meal. The way he spoke made whatever he ordered sound like it was some sort of dream rather than food.

There was awkward silence for some time, broken only when Thranduil had started explaining the decor and food of the establishment. He stopped when it became very clear Bard couldn't care less. It became even more awkward after the first course arrived and Bard couldn't figure out what utensils to use with which course. Anytime Thranduil would speak up, he was shot down with a glare.

"Seriously, Thranduil. Why did you bring me here?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Bard growled slightly. "Don't play dumb. It's obvious I belong here about as much as you belonged in the Esgaroth." Thranduil blinked owlishly at him. "I don't appreciate being made a joke."

"I assure, if I wanted to have made a fool of you I would have done so at your job." Thranduil frowned just slightly. "I even had us seated away from the public as I had thought you would not wish to be stared at."

"Then why bring me here at all?"

Thranduil blushed slightly and looked away. "I thought it was supposed to be romantic," he muttered.

Bard couldn't help but laugh. "I haven't seen anyone fail so hard at romance since the time I tried to make a bouquet out of weeds and give it to a girl I had a crush on."

"Small children are not very good at romance, no." Thranduil sighed, looking pretty down about the whole event.

"I was sixteen."

The embarrassment of the confession was worth it. Thranduil looked up sharply before laughing. Bard could really grow to love that sound.

"You are a true wonder, Bard. There are people who have not made me laugh in years, but I've have laughed three times in just one night and we are only now getting to know each other." His smile was dazzling. "I am starting to like you a great deal and want to have you with me always."

"Woah, woah. It's too early to be talking about marriage, Thranduil," Bard teased. "Maybe stick to a successful date, first?"

"I suppose you're right," Thranduil mocked disappointment. "How about you pick the next location?"

"The zoo," Bard said without missing a beat. "Think you can handle being around a bunch of stinky animals?"

"Oh, I think I'll manage."

It wasn't until after Thranduil had driven him home that Bard realized he had agreed to go on a second date. He wasn't too upset about it, though. He had never been able to visit the zoo before and it was as good an excuse as any. Besides, Thranduil wasn't bad company once he loosened up.

The zoo actually turned out to be a great choice. Bard wasn't sure how Thranduil would take the possibility of getting dirty, but he was pleasantly surprised when his date showed up in warn jeans of all things. They both acted more like little kids than the twenty-somethings they were, excitedly visiting every exhibit and spending way too much time at the petting zoo than what was appropriate for two grown men.

"I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you, Bard," Thranduil told him as they rested on a bench in the courtyard of the zoo. "I only wish I had asked you out sooner."

Bard snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause I'm a great catch. What did you learn about trying to be romantic last time, huh?"

Thranduil laughed. "I can see us together like this for many years to come."

"Slow down speedy." Bard stuck his tongue out playfully. "This is only the second date. If you think you're getting more than a kiss, then you've got another thing coming."

"Can I get that kiss now?" Thranduil asked teasingly.

Bard leaned over and placed a quick peck on Thranduil's lips. "That's all you get today, buddy."

The other man pouted but didn't press the issue. Bard may have surprised him later in the parking lot with an unexpected make out session, so it was certainly worth it.

Everything ran smoothly after that for some months. They spent their time taking walks, visiting all sorts of places around town, and a great deal of time alone in Thranduil's lavish apartment watching movies or just enjoying each other's company. He even brought his boyfriend home to meet his father once, which went very well. There was the occasional fight, but no relationship was perfect and they worked through them together. The only thing Bard could really find fault with was Thranduil's insistence on bringing up the topic of spending their lives together and getting married.

At first, he thought it was some sort of joke. His boyfriend never seemed to be offended when Bard joked it off, at least not in the beginning. Then Thranduil would start to look him in the eye and hold his hands when the subject was brought up. Bard hated the rejected look that was quickly covered over by a false smile when he treated it lightly. It was becoming painfully clear that his boyfriend was serious.

This worried Bard. Why would Thranduil want to get married so quickly? Was it maybe cultural? He was from some country called Eryn Galen, which Bard would never be able to say the name of right. Maybe people there got married after a very short courtship? Or maybe there was something wrong medically?

This worried him the most. What if Thranduil was ill and wanted to spend as much time with Bard as he could? It seemed like something his boyfriend would keep quiet about. After all, who would want to become emotionally invested in a dying person? Bard couldn't take the worry anymore.

When Thranduil showed up to walk him home from work, he finally gathered up his courage to ask.

"Thranduil, are you okay?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well. You've really been pushing this relationship to go fast." Thranduil stopped walking and refused to look at Bard. He decided to just get on with it. "Are you dying or something?"

"What?!" His boyfriend laughed a tad too high. "No! Gods, where did you get that idea?"

"Why else would you want to tie the knot so fast?"

"Because I want to spend my life with you. How is this hard to understand?" Thranduil cupped Bard's face and leaned their foreheads together. "I'm afraid someone will open their eyes and see what a wonderful person you are and steal you away from me."

Bard couldn't help the way butterflies filled his insides at the confession. Thranduil was not shy about his affections, and he couldn't have been happier about that.

"It wouldn't be easy, you know. You said you had to return home one day and I would have to leave everything behind to go with you."

"It wouldn't have to be right away."

"I can't see myself just leaving off you like a leech, Thranduil. I'd go crazy with nothing to do."

Thranduil shook his head. "You'd be able to help people if you didn't have to spend all your energy working just to survive."

"Thranduil," Bard sighed. "I have to think about it. It's not a decision I want to rush into, y'know?"

"I understand." His boyfriend smiled sadly as he walked away from Bard's apartment door. How did they get there so quick? "Take all the time you need."

Bard tossed and turned, unable to sleep. If he said yes there would be a lot of consequences. He hadn't been able to retain any friends past high school, but his father was still here and he couldn't leave him alone. But he didn't have to live in Eryn Galen permanently for a while, and he could always visit. His dad would not be happy knowing Bard sacrificed his happiness for him.

If he said no, it would crush Thranduil. Bard's stomach turned itself in knots as he imagined his boyfriend heartbroken because of him. Gods, he couldn't do that to him! Bard loved Thranduil way too much and he wouldn't blame his boyfriend for leaving him if he said no.

He grabbed his phone on the nightstand and typed Thranduil a short text message. He stared at it a moment before he hit send. That done, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

"Yes."

Bard hadn't slept enough that night, but he still had to go to work. He didn't let it get him down, though, because he could finally quit that horrible job once and for all. He was actually in a pretty good mood for being tired, until something suddenly collided into him. He fell back from the sidewalk onto the wet grass.

"What-!" Bard found himself unable to speak as his mouth was covered with another as someone kissed him over and over while speaking in a foreign language between kisses. He gently pulled Thranduil's face away so he could speak. "Well good morning to you, too."

Thranduil's smile melted Bard's heart into a gooey mess. "I thought about climbing the fire escape last night and breaking into your apartment as a romantic gesture. But, well, you are aware of my failure at such things."

"Yeah," Bard laughed. "That would have ended badly." He pushed both of them up into a sitting position, Thranduil on his lap. "Not that you're done expressing how happy you are I'm sure, but I need to get to work."

"You don't need to work for them anymore."

"I still have to show up to actually quit, and that takes a couple of weeks."

"Oh."

Bard kissed Thranduil on the nose and pulled them both up off the ground. He gave him a good hard kiss on the mouth as a goodbye. His fiance muttered something in his native tongue that sounded absolutely gorgeous whatever it was. They reluctantly let go of each other so Bard could go to work.

The next month Bard found himself boarding a plane to Eryn Galen. He was a little nervous as he'd never left his city before much less been on a plane to another country. Bard had heard horrible stories of crying babies and people kicking the seat from behind, but that was commercial airlines. Him and Thranduil would be taking a private jet.

"Your dad rented a private jet? Really?"

"Rented?" Thranduil blinked at him. "No, Adar owns this jet."

Bard balked. What kind of filthy rich person was Thranduil's father that he owned his own jet?!

"This way we'll have all the privacy we want," his fiance purred.

"There are staff, Thranduil."

"Oh, they won't bother us."

But Bard couldn't deny him anything. If Thranduil wanted to be a member of the Mile High Club, then who was he to say no?

Before they landed, Thranduil that he change into what had the most expensive outfit he'd ever seen in his life. But Bard wasn't going to argue, especially since his fiance was also wearing the same type of outfit.

Getting off the plane was madness. There was a crowd of people in the airport with signs that Bard couldn't read and flashing cameras that made him see spots. Men and women in black suits surrounded the two men and lead them away from the crowds and into a limousine.

"I'm sorry, Bard. I don't know how they found out."

"Thranduil, what are you not telling me?"

Thranduil just smirked and said nothing as they entered an ornate gate. The place looked like a palace, even more than the restaurant that they had their first date at did. In fact, the restaurant could have been inspired by this estate.

Bard was lead up the steps, his fiance affectionately hanging on his arm and leaning their heads together. Waiting in the foyer was a man that was somehow taller than even Thranduil, but with the same blue eyes, pale blonde hair, and striking facial features. He was dressed in royal regalia, matching the palace around them.

"Adar, this is Bard. He is the man I am to marry."

He felt like a bug under a microscope as the man looked him over.

"As long as you're happy, my son." He clapped his hands in a way that one must assume glee. "It has been quite some time since we've had a royal wedding. We will make this an event to remember."

Royal...

Bard wasn't an idiot, but he sure felt like one. You would think letting your future spouse know that your an actual blue blood would be a good idea before bringing them to the country your family rules to meet your king father.

"Thranduil, you are so lucky I love you because I want to punch you in the face so much right now."

The laughter of Thranduil and his father bounced off the walls.


End file.
